The Karl Hunter Investigation
by MoonBard
Summary: The VeriCorp company visits New Scotland Yard in an attempt to train Lestrade and his team in their deception detection techniques. A less than friendly competition ensues between Sherlock and VeriCorp as they rush to solve the same case. Meanwhile, Dimmock and Donovan revel in their new found powers as they try to read the secrets of Sherlock Holmes.
1. The Chief Superintendent's Surprise

DI Greg Lestrade walked slowly to the Chief Superintendent's office, still clutching his morning coffee, even though it had long since gotten cold. Usually when he was called to the Chief's office, it was for some unpleasant piece of business. The Chief was a hands-off boss at New Scotland Yard, and gave Lestrade a rather long rope when it came to running his department of detectives. He took the last slug of coffee, which registered a mixture of satisfaction and repulsion. He threw the foam cup in the wastebasket on his way into the office.

"Morning, Chief," he said expectantly.

"Ah, Greg," said the Chief through a mouthful of donut. "Have a seat. Half a sec," he added as he fumbled to bring up a website on his computer. He turned his laptop to face Lestrade, and crossed his arms triumphantly.

Lestrade squinted at the screen. "VeriCorp," he read aloud. "What's this, then?"

"VeriCorp is a company that specializes in deception-detection techniques. You know, they read people's facial expressions and body language in interrogations."

"Oh. Like that TV show, what'you call it? '_Lie To Me,_'" said Lestrade, now getting suspicious.

The Chief leaned forward in his chair. "And they apply that skill in the areas of counterintelligence, counterterrorism, and _criminal investigation." _He had a smug expression on his face that Lestrade just did not like at all.

Lestrade frowned at the screen and then looked at the Chief. "And…?"

"And I think it's about time we train up our own people and stop relying on that Sherlock Holmes fellow you're so fond of employing," he said briskly. "He's bad for the morale here," he added, looking over the top of his glasses at Lestrade.

To his own surprise, Lestrade rushed to defend Sherlock Holmes. "I know he can be difficult, but the fact is, he's damed good! There hasn't been a case we've let him in on that he hasn't solved."

"Your own people should be good enough to solve them," shot back the Superintendent. "That's what we _pay_ them for!"

He had a point.

Lestrade massaged the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, I mean, we could do with a bit of training, I'll admit."

"Good. I've already invited them to come here and give us a little demonstration of their techniques. They'll be here Wednesday to train our staff, and on Friday 10:00AM sharp they'll participate in the Karl Hunter interrogation."

"Sir?" said Lestrade, now fully alarmed. "That doesn't give us much time to prepare."

"Prepare for what? Watch and learn," said the Chief caustically. "And just for the fun of it, why don't you invite Holmes?"

"Why invite Sherlock Holmes if you want to get rid of him?" asked Lestrade.

The Chief chuckled. "A little friendly competition, yeah? Maybe take him down a peg if there are other people in room that are better than he is."

"I seriously doubt that," muttered Lestrade under his breath, but outwardly, he just nodded, pursed his lips and said, "Right, Chief."

The Chief Superintendent waved him away in an irritated fashion. "That's it. Go on, then."

Lestrade took his cue to vacate the office as fast as he could.

"I'd like to take _you_ down a peg or two," he thought as he went outside for a cigarette.

Once Lestrade got more detail surrounding the visit, he corralled all of the team members that would be in training, including Sergeant Sally Donovan, DI Dimmock and a few other less experienced inspectors, and gave them the news.

"Listen up, folks. The Chief is bringing in an organization called VeriCorp on Wednesday to participate in the Karl Hunter investigation."

There was general muttering and exclamations of surprise.

"Why? Who are they?" asked Donovan, always curious and critical.

"They are going to be here to train you lot in their interrogation techniques."

Dimmock smirked. "Are they going to let us use our billy clubs?"

There was some nervous laughter.

"Very funny," chided Lestrade. "Actually, they teach deception detection techniques. You'll better learn how to read people during an interrogation. They'll show us how to look for verbal cues and body language to spot liars. God help us all," he added acerbically.

"We learned this stuff in basic training!" objected DI Dimmock, clearly thinking he was above this.

"Yeah, well, these are 'new and improved' techniques," explained Lestrade, clearly not convinced himself. "And I want everyone's full cooperation," he added pointedly.

"Why the Hunter case?" asked Donovan. "Isn't it a bit high profile for this?"

"Yeah," agreed Lestrade. "And I'd like to keep VeriCorp's involvement out of the press, if we can."

The Karl Hunter case was a highly sensitive, highly publicized case currently in the British news. Karl Hunter, father of two, had called in to report his wife, Eve Hunter, missing. At first, the whole country had mobilized behind the man, hanging on his tearful pleas for help in finding her. As details of a bitter divorce surfaced, there was a growing faction of people who felt that Hunter _was_ the killer and had committed murder to exercise "the ultimate act of control" in their divorce proceedings. Though there was circumstantial proof of motive as well as evidence of the victim's sudden disappearance and her tiny amounts spattered blood in the garage and kitchen in the family home, neither her body nor a weapon had been found. He had in fact been convicted once, but that was overturned due to circumstantial evidence. Hunter maintained his innocence.

"We don't need everyone doubting our abilities," said Lestrade emphatically, running his hand through his short cropped grey hair. "Speaking of which, the Chief thinks we rely too much on Sherlock Holmes to solve our cases for us."

"Amen," said Donovan hotly.

"Well, you have to admit," interjected Lestrade, "whenever we're stumped, **_which is a lot these days_**," he said loudly, "we need to call in Sherlock to give us a hand. Maybe if we could learn these techniques we wouldn't have to call him. At least, not quite so often."

"Anything that can make me see that freak less often is OK by me," quipped Donovan.

"Well I hate to break it you, Donovan, but the Chief wants him here when VeriCorp comes."

"What?" exclaimed Dimmock. "If he wants us to rely on him less often, then why invite him?"

Lestrade shook his head. He didn't like this at all. Over the last year or so he had grown to know Sherlock somewhat, at least as well as anyone _could_ know Sherlock Holmes. He considered the consulting detective to be his friend.

"The Chief wants to see what he can do against VeriCorp. You know, a competition of sorts. I don't see the point in that myself."

Donovan was clearly pleased by this idea. "Oh good. Let's see if they can out-freak him!"

"Maybe _we_ could learn a thing or to, and show him up once in awhile," interjected Dimmock, also very pleased with the idea of getting back at the man who outclassed him regularly.

"That's the spirit," said Lestrade sarcastically. "Whatever your motivation is, I expect you to embrace this material. We need to boost our internal success rate on cracking these cases. This Hunter case has been an embarrassment for us for months. If the Chief hadn't brought in VeriCorp, I would have brought in Sherlock on this one anyway."

"Now get back to work," ordered Lestrade. He was not looking forward to the phone call to tell Sherlock about VeriCorp. In fact, it was probably a better idea to call John Watson, Sherlock's best friend and roommate, who would know exactly how to handle this.


	2. The Game Is On

John Watson sat at his desk at 221B Baker Street, checking his email while half of his attention was on the telly. Over the last few days there seemed to be nothing on but coverage of the Karl Hunter case. He had to admit it was riveting, and it was hard not to be affected by the man's tearful pleas.

Every so often, a small black rubber ball whizzed by John's head and bounced off the wall, ricocheting back to the origin of its launch site…Sherlock Holmes, who lay on the sofa, still in his pajamas despite the fact that it was nearly noon.

John tried to ignore this irritation. He knew this was a nervous outlet for Sherlock's boredom. There had been no interesting cases for weeks and business had been very slow. Sherlock had been foraging for cigarettes again, checking and re-checking his favorite hiding places, but John and Mrs. Hudson, their land lady, had done an admirable job in removing the smokes. As the ball whizzed close by his ear again, John considered putting a pack back in one of the hiding places, just to let him vent his boredom in some other way.

"I wonder how Lestrade's making out on this one," ventured John, hoping Sherlock would stop throwing the ball.

Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly, although John suspected he was annoyed that Lestrade hadn't called him yet.

"Who cares?" snapped Sherlock taking up the ball and rolling over to face the wall. His curly dark hair was unkempt, and John wondered when the last time was that he ran a comb through it. He needed to find a case, if for no other reason than to pull his friend back into the world of the living.

As if in answer to this thought, John's phone buzzed. He was thrilled to see Lestrade's name come up on the display.

"It's Lestrade!" he shouted to Sherlock's back. He answered the phone and Sherlock listened to one side of the conversation.

"Hello? Yeah, hi. What? We were just wondering about that. We've seen it on the news again. This Friday? Really? Why, what's the problem?"

Sherlock had turned over to face John, now impatient to know what was being said. He threw the ball which landed in John's cup of tea.

"Jesus Christ! No, not you…Sherlock. Wait, what? Oh, he won't like that. Well, I'll tell him. Mmmm Hmmm. OK. I'll let you know. Bye"

He hung up the phone and looked sideways at Sherlock like he always did when sizing him up to tell him bad news.

"Well, what did Gavin want?" asked Sherlock in a surly voice.

"Greg," said John flatly. This man was a genius with a vast capacity to store information in his 'Mind Palace' but he refused to use Lestrade's first name correctly. John suspected he knew perfectly well, but it had become somewhat of a habit, perhaps even belying an undercurrent of general fondness.

"He wants us down at the Yard on Friday to sit and watch an interview with Karl Hunter…just to watch," stressed John. "We'll be in another room watching a live feed, so we won't be able to ask any questions."

Sherlock's steel blue eyes shifted back and forth as he took in this information.

"You said I wouldn't like it. You mean I won't like not being able to ask questions?" he searched John's features, impatient for an answer. John was clearly guarded, but his knowing look indicated he still knew something Sherlock didn't.

"Not…not exactly," stuttered John. "They've hired a company called VeriCorp to come in. He says they have some kind of deception training…and they want to train the Scotland Yard staff…"

Sherlock snuffed loudly at this, and then realized the incongruity. "Well, what do they want _me_ there for then?"

John paused before answering, considering his friend's tendency to react violently to unpleasant news.

"They want to challenge you to solve the crime before VeriCorp does," said John quickly, rescuing his tea cup and his computer before Sherlock found something else to throw.

But Sherlock just sat perfectly still, his eyes unfocused as if far away in thought. They narrowed as he came back to the present. He took in a deep breath and said in his deepest most menacing voice, "Tell him we'll be there."

John blinked at him. "Sherlock, you don't have to do this. The Chief just wants to make you look like a fool. You know it embarrasses him that his own lot can't figure things out."

"You think I'll come out looking like a fool?" asked Sherlock, turning to glare at John.

"N-no. That's not what I…listen, I just mean that you have nothing to prove. You are the smartest and best detective they've ever had!"

Sherlock basked in the compliment for a moment, the barest hint of a smile forming on his full lipped mouth. Suddenly, he launched himself off of the sofa.

"Well, in that case, I'd better go and have a wash. The game is on!"


	3. VeriCorp Comes to New Scotland Yard

The great consulting detective threw himself into a tireless frenzy of research, and for the next few days ate little and slept less. As usual after long periods of boredom, when he finally got a case, he worked almost non stop. His mood was much improved, one could even say inappropriately cheerful, considering the details of the case.

He feverishly reviewed all of the evidence on the case so far (supplied reluctantly by DI Dimmock) and replayed all of the video footage of Karl Hunter that he could find. John helped in his usual way, applying his common sense and methodically digging through all of the evidence to date. Even if he didn't possess the same radical deductive reasoning skills as Sherlock, it was often the combination of abilities that made them so successful as a team.

On Friday morning, Sherlock was up early. In fact when John came into the living room, Sherlock was standing in front of the mirror fixing his suit. His slender form appeared graceful and sometimes otherworldly.

John scratched his head, squinted and looked again at the clock. "Sherlock, it's only eight o'clock. We don't need to be there until ten! You're already dressed?"

Sherlock was expressionless as he regarded himself in the mirror.

"The traffic will be a nightmare," he said to John, still not taking his eyes from the mirror. It was not a self appraising gaze, but a rather flat one. John shook his head.

"I'll get dressed. Maybe we can grab a coffee from Speedy's at least?" He had long ago abandoned the use of their refrigerator to store food. God only knew what macabre thing of Sherlock's might be in there for scientific study.

Sherlock didn't reply, so John just went and got himself ready at his leisure. By nine o'clock they were standing in line at Speedy's. John got himself a cup of coffee and a croissant, but Sherlock ordered nothing. John was used to this and made no comment.

Sherlock hailed a cab, which pulled in immediately.

"Where to, sirs?" asked the cabbie in his thick London accent.

"Scotland Yard," said Sherlock importantly. The cabbie looked at him in the mirror only to see Sherlock peering back at him intently. The cabbie looked away quickly. Ever since the case which John titled, 'A Study in Pink', Sherlock was always suspicious of cabbies. But the ride was uneventful.

John took a deep breath before entering the building, but Sherlock seemed unperturbed. When the sleuth was on a case, nothing could disturb his focus.

"Sherlock," said John tentatively.

"Spare me the _'Sherlock, be nice' _speech, John," clipped the detective, imitating John's voice, as they made their way through security.

"You are a dick," said John softly, but he couldn't see the smirk on Sherlock's face, as the consulting detective was walking ahead of him.

"Just don't give these people a cause to hate you. Our business will suffer if we don't get Lestrade's cases!" John admonished.

Sherlock strode purposefully into the meeting room where they were to be introduced to the VeriCorp representatives, with John following, looking for a place to ditch the coffee cup. Greg Lestrade came over to them immediately.

"Glad you could come," he said in a low tone. "Listen, this wasn't my idea," he said by way of apology. "You really don't have to do this. It's just the Chief's twisted idea of fun. It really gets under his skin when you solve a case that we can't."

"A high profile murder case and cut throat competition….sounds like my idea of fun, too," answered Sherlock in an even lower voice, with just a hint of mischievousness.

"C'mon, let me introduce you," said Lestrade, bringing them to the side of the room where the VeriCorp people were standing.

They walked past Dimmock who nodded at them guardedly. John nodded back but Sherlock ignored him summarily. Donovan was already seated, looking at Sherlock as if appraising him with her new found skills.

"Still indexing your sock drawer, Freak?" she whispered as he walked by. She had discovered that quirk during one of their bogus 'drugs busts' in his flat. He paused but didn't turn to face her. Instead he looked straight ahead and said, "Another late night Donovan? What do you see in that Anderson fellow? And the diet pills aren't working," he added cruelly.

"Jesus, Sherlock," hissed John, who shook his head and chanced a look at Donovan, who was furious at the exchange. They forged ahead to where Lestrade was waiting.

"John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, I'd like you to meet William Conroy and Samantha Sloan from VeriCorp." As the four exchanged handshakes, Lestrade said, "William and Samantha are Clinical Forensic Psychologists, and they've been instructing our lot on their techniques on reading people during interrogations and interviews."

"Forensic psychology?" said Sherlock critically. "Isn't that an oxymoron?"

John shot Sherlock a warning look, which bounced off his friend with no effect. William Conroy was a middle aged balding man with a short paunchy stature and a serious face. Samantha Sloan, however, was much younger and quite beautiful. She had lovely dark skin and striking pale green eyes. Her easy, casual demeanor was very charming…and disarming.

William Conrad gazed intently at Sherlock, who remained inscrutable under his examination. The man's demeanor was no nonsense, as he replied, "There is a _science_ to psychology, Mr. Holmes. I'll be happy to instruct you in it sometime, after we solve this case."

"Perhaps after **_I_** solve the case," replied Sherlock cooly. There was a moment of awkward silence, which was broken by Samantha Sloan.

"I am a big fan of your blog," said Samantha to John. "Your cases are fascinating!"

John smiled at her broadly. "Thanks," he said, unable to stop himself from flushing slightly under her gaze.

"Call me Sam," she said warmly to them, undeterred by the tension in the room.

"Sam Sloan," repeated Sherlock. "You wouldn't happen to play chess?" he asked cheekily referring to the great chess player Samuel Sloan.

"I get that a lot," she said, laughing. "Would you like to play sometime?" she asked, clearly flirting. But Sherlock didn't flirt back as she expected. His eye brows knit together and his eyes darted sideways towards John, as if seeking the answer, but he did not reply.

Sam was clearly fascinated by Sherlock, and not at all offended by his behavior. She had done her research on her competition. Sherlock Holmes was the Holy Grail of subjects for her profession, and she was first and foremost a scientist. One could become adept at masking one's emotions, but the body's natural physical reactions to the world go largely unnoticed and are virtually impossible to suppress.

To the untrained eye, Sherlock appeared to be emotionless and completely in control of himself. But as Sam studied him during their short encounter, she noticed a micro expression, which is an almost imperceptible flash of emotion that betrays our true feelings. There had been definite sign of irritation. And, to her gratification, when they had shaken hands, his pupils had unmistakably dilated, signaling physical attraction.

Lestrade had walked up to the front of the room and was signaling to get everyone's attention.

"Okay folks, let's all take our seats," he shouted, as everyone quieted down and found their places.

"As you all know by now, you are here to witness this morning's arranged interview with Karl Hunter. I don't think I need to go over all of the details of the case, which I expect you are all very familiar with by now."

There were various expressions of consent, and most people had notepads scrawled with notes that they were flipping through for review. John had a small pad and pen, but Sherlock had nothing whatsoever to record notes on. This was not lost on the VeriCorp contingent, who seemed surprised.

"Now, the questions are all part of a script, written under the consult of VeriCorp," began Lestrade, who noticed John's hand in the air already.

"Don't we get a chance to have our questions asked?" queried John, feeling that this was an unfair advantage for VeriCorp.

"No need," said Sherlock, waving his hand dismissively.

John did a double take, looking at Sherlock in surprise, but he made no further remarks, so Lestrade continued.

"Right, well, the questions will be asked by an internal NSY investigator, and will be watched by everyone in this room via a live feed. It will be recorded and available for you all to review at your convenience. NSY team, you've all been trained this week by VeriCorp on various techniques for deception detection, and I want you all taking notes and using those techniques during this interview. Sherlock, you'll be doing….whatever it is you usually do, and we shall each follow up any leads we might obtain here today separately."

There was a lot of shifting and fidgeting as people began to anticipate the work ahead of them. Donovan had a determined set to her chin, hoping to finally break something before Sherlock. William Conroy seemed supremely confident in his abilities, while Sam Sloan gazed calmly at everyone in the room around her, taking in as much detail as she could about their body language, which spoke volumes about their interrelationships.

She did not miss the humiliated look of Sally Donovan or the idol worship of DI Dimmock for Sherlock Holmes despite the latter's callousness. She noted John Watson's nervous concern as he watched his friend from the corner of his eye. Lestrade, she knew, was skeptical about the whole experiment and Sherlock…well, she was a bit stuck on Sherlock at the moment. There was not a thing to tell of him as he sat there in his long trench coat with the collar turned up, except that he now seemed to be in supreme control of himself.


	4. Karl Hunter

Lestrade turned on the monitor and everyone in the room fell silent. At the request of VeriCorp, they had four separate camera angles pointed at the subject's chair. There was a split screen view on the monitor, but the result was that it was very hard to process unless you focused on only one view at a time. The idea wasn't to catch every reaction in real time, but to _later_ review each of the angles on tape, with the ability to freeze frames and slow the motion. Also per VeriCorp's request, the interviewee was not seated behind a table. It was important for them to be able to see his feet, since one of the easiest body language signs that tells a person's feelings is their foot position and movements.

It was only a moment until Karl Hunter entered the video and took his seat across from the examiner. He had already been questioned before by both the police and in the court at his trial. Regrettably those interviews hadn't been taped, so VeriCorp hadn't been able to see directly how he handled the questions. They had reviewed all of the footage available to them from news clips, but those were not that useful.

The Chief Superintendent was under great pressure from the public to solve the case, and pushed for this latest 'interview' to bring in VeriCorp (and though he would never admit it, Sherlock) who he hoped would gain some insight into Karl Hunter. His organization couldn't afford the money or resources this long drawn-out case would cost them.

Karl Hunter was a fairly handsome sandy haired man in his early thirties. His face had a boyish quality to it, which made him look rather innocent. His eyes appeared a bit red, as if he had been crying, but otherwise, he was very well groomed, and obviously a man of some means. His hair was neatly trimmed, his clothes crisp and ironed.

**_Sam Sloan's head:_**

_Red eyes but not puffy…Self-induced by rubbing?_

**_Sherlock's head:_**

_Savile Row suit, manicure, metro? Wealthy. Tweezed eyebrows. Who tweezed? Tan. Real or tanning bed? At a time like this? Self assured. Hmmmmmmmmmm._

**_Lestrade's head:_**

_Looks like a decent bloke. What I wouldn't do for a cigarette right now!_

After verifying that the people in the control room could hear as well as see the feed, the examiner began the interview.

"Good morning, Mr. Hunter," he said.

"Good morning," answered Hunter leaning forward in his chair, as if eager to start.

"Mr. Hunter, before we begin, can you please repeat the series of numbers that the secretary gave you this morning?"

"Sure," he agreed. "543987," he said, his eyes shifting to the left. He seemed a bit confused by this odd request. It had been made on behalf of VeriCorp, who can sometimes determine if a person is recalling something or making it up based on the way their eyes move when speaking. In this base line test, Karl Hunter's eyes moved left as he recalled the numbers.

"Mr. Hunter, why don't start by telling us why you are here today," began the interviewer.

"As you know, 6 months ago my wife went missing." He took a deep breath and paused to compose himself.

"First I want to say to all of the people working on this case, thank you for working so hard for me and my family. I know you'll find her."

**_Sam Sloan's head:_**

_Eyes shift left when remembering_

_Micro smile? Possibly taking enjoyment in lying?_

**_William Conroy's head:_**

_Deep breath - but not shaky. Fake distress _

**_John Watson's head:_**

_This poor guy. Still, I wonder…_

**_Sherlock's head:_**

_You know exactly where your wife is. Where is she?_

"I am here today because there are those who continue to believe that I had something to do with my wife's disappearance, even though the conviction was overturned." Here, he looked directly into one of the cameras. "I am here to say to those people, I had nothing to do with her disappearance."

**_Sam Sloan's head:_**

_Knew exactly where to find the camera? _

**_William Conroy's head:_**

_Liars do look you in the eye_

**_Sherlock's head:_**

_Disappearance? Death, you mean. What did you do with the body?_

**_Sally Donovan's head:_**

_Doesn't seem like a liar. Keep an open mind…_

**_DI Dimmock's head:_**

_Never did trust a man in a fancy suit…_

"Mr. Hunter, can you tell us a bit about the last time you saw Eve?"

Hunter considered the question, and then grew very still and his eyes shifted to the right as he recounted the scene. "Yes. We were in the kitchen, and I was cooking breakfast for the kids. They love eggs and toast in the morning, and I like to make them happy. They like it when I make silly faces out of the food on their plates." He paused, and smiled weakly. "My wife was in a rush. She said something about having a big meeting at work. She barely had time to give the kids a kiss before rushing off." He stopped and put his hand up to his mouth, as if suppressing a sob. "We didn't know we'd never see her again!"

**_Sam Sloan's head:_**

_Not moving when talking - concentrating on keeping lies straight_

_He's making this up! His eyes are shifting right now which shows constructing_

_I wonder what Sherlock is thinking?_

**_William Conroy's head:_**

_Impression management - trying to come off as a good guy_

_Can't recall conversation. Liars are vague and don't recount conversations_

_This guy knows what happened to his wife!_

**_John Watson's head:_**

_So much useless detail? I wonder what Sherlock is thinking._

**_Sherlock's head:_**

_What's it like in your funny little brains? Why are we still here? He _**_knows_**_ he'll never see her again? Clearly, he murdered her._

**_Sally Donovan's head:_**

_I wonder why he never mentions wife's name? Is he distancing himself from this?_

**_DI Dimmock's head:_**

_This is useless. We've been over this guy with a fine toothed comb. Everything is circumstantial!_

"Mr. Hunter, it is well know that you were going through a divorce at the time. Do you think she just left you for another man?"

Karl Hunter shook his head vigorously. "She'd never leave the kids behind! If she was seeing another man, why wouldn't _he_ be a suspect in this?"

**_Sam Sloan's head:_**

_She wouldn't leave the kids maybe, but what about you?_

**_William Conroy's head:_**

_Leading us away from himself as a suspect_

**_John Watson's head:_**

_I hope Sherlock is getting something out of this. What can we get out of this?_

_I wonder if Sam Sloan has a boyfriend_

**_Sherlock's head:_**

_This is pointless! She wouldn't leave her kids behind. She's dead._

**_Lestrade's head:_**

_I hope Sherlock is figuring this out. God, I need a cigarette!_

"Mr. Hunter, did you kill your wife?"

He blinked as if the question had been a slap in the face. "Did I kill my wife?" he repeated. He shook his head up and down and said, "I did not kill my wife. I can only hope she is alive! Honey, please come home. Maybe we can work things out!"

**_Sam Sloan's head:_**

_Shaking head 'yes' while saying 'no' - Contradiction._

_Repeating the question is stalling for time_

**_William Conroy's head:_**

_He doesn't think she's alive! The police have still got to consider this man as a suspect!_

**_Sherlock's head:_**

_Police can't take him into custody again without additional physical evidence…we're wasting time here. _

"Is there anything you wish to add, Mr. Hunter?"

Hunter found a different camera and looked into it with all of the sincerity he could muster.

"I would _never_ do anything to hurt the mother of my children. You _have_ to believe me when I say I didn't have any involvement in her disappearance."

**_Sam Sloan's head:_**

_Liar!_

**_William Conroy's head:_**

_Liar!_

**_John Watson's head:_**

_Liar_

**_Sherlock's head:_**

_Liar_

**_Sally Donovan's head:_**

_He is probably lying, but how can we prove it?_

**_DI Dimmock's head:_**

_I'd love to crack this before Holmes. But how? This interview doesn't provide any new clues! _

With this last statement the interview concluded. Everyone looked around the room trying to gauge what the others where thinking. Sherlock stood up abruptly and made for the door, John following hastily.

"Sherlock! Sherlock, where the hell are you going so fast?" he had to pedal his legs twice as fast to keep up with the lanky detective.

"I need to speak to a man about a horse," he said cryptically as he continued through the halls.

He navigated around the corridors like a man with a plan, and in fact he intended to head off Karl Hunter before he left the building. He came out on the side of the interview room where Hunter had taped the interview, and sure enough, Hunter was heading to the men's loo. Sherlock swooped in behind him smoothly, motioning for John to wait outside.

Once inside, Hunter headed for the urinal. Sherlock purposely committed the social faux pas of taking up the urinal directly next to him instead of skipping one. He surreptitiously glanced at the man's suit lapel and scanned his shoes. Certainly, that was horse manure he smelled faintly. Hunter glanced at him, annoyed.

"Problem, mate?" he asked.

Sherlock assumed his best Cockney accent by way of a disguise.

"Awright geeezzaa! No problem. I was just wonderin' abaaaht yaaahr pin," he said, pointing to the small pin on Hunter's lapel. "Do yew like 'orses?"

Hunter looked at him with a very cold stare. "Yes. What business is that of yours?"

"Blimey! I didn't mean anythin' by it. I was just wondering," said Sherlock, acting innocently.

"Excuse me," said Hunter. "I have business to attend to."

"I'll bet yew do," said Sherlock, scanning Hunter with his laser-like eyes.

Hunter exited the bathroom quickly and brushed past John on his way out of the building. Sherlock came out to find John grinning widely and handing Sam Sloan a piece of paper with his address and phone number on it. She gave Sherlock a sly smile as she took it and handed a paper with her own number to John.

"I'll see you tonight," she said flirting shamelessly. "We can compare notes." And with that she left in search of her colleague WiIliam Conroy.

"Fraternizing with the enemy?" accused Sherlock in an annoyed tone of voice.

"Enemy?" said John loudly. "She's not our enemy. And it's just dinner," he said as if trying to convince himself.

"She's using you to get to me," said Sherlock, a bit petulantly.

"Get to you?" laughed John, looking his friend up and down.

"When has any woman ever gotten to _you_?" he asked flabbergasted at Sherlock's nerve.

"Not _me_. My _Intellect_. She wants to know how I'm going to approach this case," said Sherlock adamantly. "And _you're_ not going to tell her." And with that, he strode outside to get a taxi, not bothering to wait to see if John was coming.


	5. Fraternizing With The Enemy

The ride home was quiet as Sherlock spent most of the time using his cell phone to look up various things on the internet. John tried to make conversation only once the entire time.

"So, that seemed like a waste of time, eh? I don't know what they expected to get out of such a generic and short line of questioning."

Sherlock grunted.

"Nothing but more doubt, I suppose," pressed John, hoping Sherlock would share something with him.

Sherlock was so lost in thought that it wasn't until they got back to Baker Street that he surfaced enough to talk to John.

"Fancy a little trip to Edenbridge?" asked Sherlock, firing up his laptop.

"Edenbridge?" asked John surprised. "What the hell for?"

"Just a hunch," said Sherlock casually.

"You actually got a clue from that nonsense?"

"As ever John, you see but you do not observe," Sherlock said dryly.

"Yah. Getting a bit sick of that one, mate. What have I not observed _this _time?" he asked testily.

"Hunter wore a pin on his lapel," said Sherlock as if the rest was obvious.

"And…?" urged John.

Sherlock heaved a big sigh and continued.

"Killers can never help but flaunt their cleverness, John, especially ones that think they've gotten away with something. His lapel pin was the insignia from the Sport Horse Breeding of Great Britain organization, in Edenbridge."

"You saw that from the video feed?" asked John incredulously.

"Nope. I saw it in the loo," replied Sherlock matter-of-factly.

John shook his head in disbelief. "You think that has something to do with this case?"

"Not sure yet. Just want to follow the lead. I don't think Scotland Yard pursued that particular interest of Karl Hunter's."

"We'll need to change clothes, I should think, and maybe grab a bite for lunch first?" said John sensibly, but Sherlock just gave him one of his signature inscrutable looks.

"Right, well, _I'm_ changing and eating first, so you do whatever you want," said John, exasperated at his friend's oddities.

It was almost 1 o'clock in the afternoon before the two left Baker Street for the tube. Edenbridge was about an hour and a half outside London, so a cab just wouldn't be practical. Sherlock hated the tube, and was in a disgruntled mood as they left the flat.

Just as they stepped out onto the street, John came to an abrupt halt as he ran into a woman that had been standing there looking at the door.

"Sam!" said John in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought we set dinner for seven?"

Sam Sloan looked embarrassed as she looked from John to Sherlock.

"Oh, I was just…I just wanted to scout out the area you live in before I came here at night in the dark. I'm not too familiar with London, you know?" she smiled weakly.

"Sure, yeah!" said John smiling broadly.

Sherlock, on the other hand was scanning her with suspicion.

"We're just on our way to the tube," said John, not sure if leaving abruptly would be too rude. "We're just going out to Edenbridge to…"

"Visit a friend," shouted Sherlock, at the same time John said 'follow a lead.' He glared at John, who was too busy gazing at Sam to notice.

"Well," said Sam hesitantly. "I could give you lift. I have a car," she said, pointing down the street to where she had parked. "Do you mind if I come along?"

"Yes!" said Sherlock now clearly peeved at this development.

"Not at all," said John, shooting him a meaningful look.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Aren't we supposed to each be following our _own_ leads?" he asked not caring if she was offended. It was _his_ reputation at stake after all.

"Truthfully, I don't have a lead," admitted Sam regretfully. "I do believe Hunter is lying. All the markers are there," she added. "We just need him to give us a piece of information we can follow up on!" she said adamantly.

"He has," said Sherlock tersely. "It's in Edenbridge."

Sam looked at Sherlock, taking in the details of the man. His face betrayed nothing of his emotions, unlike his friend John who was very open and warm. Sherlock stood with his collar turned up against the chill, his light eyes regarding her cooly. She smiled slightly, regarding him just as straight forwardly.

Sherlock pressed his lips together. "Oh, all right," he relented.

John looked relieved. "Alright then. Let's go!"

The only positive from Sherlock's perspective was that he didn't have to ride the train. Otherwise, he sat in the back seat and barely endured Sam and John's small talk. They laughed and flirted, while Sam looked periodically in the rear view mirror at Sherlock. Most of the time he was gazing out the window deep in thought, or else manically checking his cell phone. She caught definite signs of sadness when he didn't think she was looking. It was probable that he felt like a third wheel, and Sam's heart went out to him. It occurred to her that many of the walls he had built up around himself were to avoid the pain of loneliness. The problem was, those walls _ensured_ his loneliness. John was the one exception to the rule, which was very interesting. Sherlock had the capacity for friendships, but it was a gift he rarely bestowed.

As it turned out, Sam had a Master's degree in Psychology. As an undergrad, she had minored in law, so she knew her way around the legal system too. Sherlock would not admit it just yet, but she was a very intelligent and discerning woman. She definitely had potential…


	6. Edenbridge

John had explained to Sam about Sherlock's discovery of Karl Hunter's lapel pin with the insignia from the Sport Horse Breeding of Great Britain organization, whose main branch was in Edenbridge. She was suitably impressed by Sherlock's keen powers of observation, but she was dubious that it provided any link to the case. When she voiced this concern, he said, "Let's follow _your _leads then. Oh, that's right. You have none."

He smiled without mirth and looked back out the side window, clearly annoyed.

It wasn't long before they pulled into a small farm on the edge of the town. Sam parked her Audi in the dusty lot, nearest the only building on the property that didn't look like a stable. They figured there must be an office of sorts somewhere. They had no real plan but to ask questions about Karl Hunter of anyone who was present to see what, if any, information they could get.

There was an office there as they suspected, and when they entered, the office manager looked up at them, surprised.

"Oh, hello," he said, standing up behind his cluttered desk. "I'm Stan Beardsley, general manager. How can I help you folks today?"

John took the lead while Sherlock took the opportunity to scan the office.

"Hi, I'm John Watson, this is Sherlock Holmes and Samantha Sloan. We were wondering if you could answer a few questions about Karl Hunter and his involvement with your organization."

Stan looked at them guardedly. "Karl Hunter. Been on the news a lot lately. Shame about his wife. Are you with the police?" he asked, sensibly.

"We are consulting detectives working with NSY on this case," answered John, hoping that would be enough.

The manager was under no obligation to answer any questions for anyone other than the police, but he seemed open to doing so. Sherlock noticed he didn't ask for any identification…a trusting sort.

"Wow. Sure. OK," said Stan sitting down again, and motioning for them to do the same. Only Sherlock remained standing, looking around the room.

"Well, how involved is Mr. Hunter with your group? What does he do here?" asked John, only now taking his notepad out of his pocket.

Stan thought for a moment. "Well, he's owned several horses over the years which are graded by us. He runs them in shows and breeds them, you know?"

John nodded. "Do you know him very well?"

Stan shook his head. "Not very well. Seen him around now and again, but his partner's the one as takes care of things mostly. His partner's a vet, so he knows his way around the horses. Karl is more of a silent partner. Still though, he seems like a nice enough bloke," added Stanley sincerely. Sam scanned his demeanor for any signs of deception, but he was being open and honest. He was not hiding anything that she could see.

"Can you tell us who his partner is?" asked John.

"I can do better than that. I can introduce you to him. His name is Archie Brooks. He's out in the barn right now checking one of our mares. He does work for a lot of owners."

Stan hauled himself out of his chair and led them to one of the barns. John had changed into jeans and sturdy shoes, but Sherlock and Samantha were a little overdressed for the occasion. In her defense, Sam hadn't known beforehand she would be going to a horse barn, but Sherlock was just plain obstinate. He didn't appear to be offended by the manure or the smell.

"Archie!" called Stan, trying to attract the man's attention.

A thin man with black hair and delicate features came around the corner at the call of his name. He had a towel and was wiping his hands.

"Archie, these folks are working with Scotland Yard on the Karl Hunter case. They wanted to ask us a few questions. Can you spare a few minutes?"

At the mention of Scotland Yard, Archie's back stiffened.

"Are you cops?" he asked in an unfriendly tone.

"Consulting detectives," said Sherlock dryly.

"Mr. Brooks, how well do you know Karl Hunter?" asked John, hoping to catch the man off guard before he decided to shut them out.

"Not too well. We've done business together, but I stay out of his personal life, mind you," he added quickly. He held up his hand and turned his face away from them. Sam picked up on this possible distancing behavior, but she needed to see him answer more questions.

"Did you notice any unusual behavior prior to Mrs. Hunter's disappearance?" asked Sam, eager to get his response.

Archie flushed and said "No!" He shrugged. "I don't see him very often. This is just a hobby to him, not a full time job." He shrugged again. Sam saw this and translated it in terms of her training. A shrug might indicate that the speaker doesn't believe what he is saying. She looked at Sherlock and gave him a meaningful look to indicate she thought Archie was lying. Sherlock picked up on this and busied himself on his cell phone looking something up.

"Stan said you were partners. You must have known him quite well," objected John.

"He owned the horses, but all the shows were entered in my name. He didn't want the publicity," said Archie. Sam judged that much to be true.

"He didn't come around very often. Just a few times a year to check on things," added Archie. True again.

"Did you see him at the time shortly before his wife's disappearance?" asked John, thinking that pressing the line of questioning might yield something.

"No," said Archie, his voice dropping in volume.

Sam saw this as a possible sign of deception.

At this point, Sherlock whirled around holding up his cell phone. "Archie, I suggest that you cooperate to the fullest extent possible. What with your gambling debt and past brushes with the law, we could make things…difficult for you."

It was a bit of a lie, of course. They had no legal jurisdiction over the man. But with the three of them standing there claiming to be with Scotland Yard, it was more than Archie could take. The police had never questioned him originally, not even realizing Karl Hunter's involvement with the organization.

Archie was flummoxed, and didn't know quite _what_ to say at this point.

Sam picked up on his confusion and pumped him further.

"Did he say or do anything out of the ordinary before his wife's disappearance?" she asked, giving him a soft, inquiring look and putting her hand on his arm. It worked on most men. It was an added perk of being beautiful.

Archie looked at her and deflated under her beautiful gaze.

"Now that you mention it, he did," said Archie, licking his lips nervously. "I didn't do anything wrong," he added quickly.

"We understand, Archie," said Sam sweetly. "Just tell us what happened, honey."

Sherlock and John exchanged looks. Sam's tactics were certainly coming in handy.

"Well, he asked me about a certain drug. One that we use to sedate the horses when they're hurt," he said nervously.

"Acepromazine?" asked Sherlock. Archie looked at him surprised.

"Yes! How do you know?" asked Archie, now looking worried.

"Chemistry graduate," explained John jerking his head towards Sherlock.

"Well, I told him about it," said Archie, "but I didn't give him any! The thing is…" he said very hesitantly, "the thing is there was a syringe that went missing."

"I can't prove it was him that took it!" he added hastily, looking at their alarmed expressions.

"I'm not in trouble, am I?" asked Archie, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Not as long as you cooperate," said John, who was now in the process of dialing Lestrade to fill him in on the latest details.


	7. Super Hooper

Sherlock, John and Sam stayed at the stable until the local police showed up to take Archie in for further questioning. As it turned out, Eve Hunter had visited the stables once she found out her husband owned the horses. She was not about to let him get away with hidden assets when it came to the divorce. She had spoken with Archie, who had given her the financial information, but that was the one and only time he had ever met her. When asked why he didn't go to the police with this information during the initial investigation, Archie admitted he was afraid that the suspicion would turn towards him. With his precarious standing with the law, he felt that he would have been rushed to judgement. Sam watched carefully while he was questioned, and felt that we was being truthful now. The police, however, did detain Archie until further information could be collected. There was only one thing left to do…

Sam drove John and Sherlock back to London to the lab at St. Bart's Hospital. Sherlock had been able to secure blood samples taken from the Hunter home in the initial investigation, thanks to Molly Hooper.

Molly was waiting for them with samples and the chemicals Sherlock had requested for testing. When Sherlock entered the lab and saw Molly standing there, a fleeting expression crossed his face that was not lost on Sam Sloan. Had that been fondness? Affection? Maybe John Watson wasn't the only one who affected Sherlock this way.

Molly smiled at Sherlock and could no more control the look of hopeless adoration on her face than she could control the weather. Sam was touched by this. The Genius was human after all.

"What are you looking for?" asked Molly shyly.

"Acepromazine," said Sherlock, not looking up from his microscope. "If I am right, this blood sample should contain it."

"Wouldn't they have tested the blood when they first collected it?" asked Sam.

"They tested it for DNA and perhaps a few well-known compounds, but this requires a very specific test. They wouldn't have been looking for it," he explained, as if to a simple minded person. Molly Hooper didn't even try to hide her smirk. This was _her_ territory. Molly was clearly intimidated by Sam's striking appearance, but Sherlock seemed impervious to it. At least, it _seemed_ that way to Molly.

"Aha!" exclaimed Sherlock suddenly, causing them to jump a bit. "We've got it!" he said with obvious glee. "The small amount of blood in the house is consistent with someone being stabbed with a _needle_, not a knife. The amount of the drug necessary to knock out a horse would have killed a human."

"But we still don't know who did it," John reminded him. "It could have been Archie. He is a vet, and he had direct access to that drug."

"I didn't get that sense from him," said Sam, confident in her ability to read people.

"Archie had no motive," said Sherlock. "Karl was hiding his equine assets, and once she found him out, perhaps he became incensed."

"We don't have a body," Molly reminded them sensibly.

"Molly's right," said Sherlock turning to Molly with an approving look. She was visibly pleased at this small attention.

"We need to find that body," he said, filled with a new vigor. The others were clearly tired from the long day of running around, but Sherlock seemed as fresh as ever. He was indefatigable when on a case.

"Where would a man like Karl Hunter hide a body?" said Sherlock, pacing around the lab.

"And with just a few drops of blood found, he didn't chop her up," said Molly matter-of-factly with her quirky smile. Sherlock did admire her practicality and lack of squeamishness.

"He would have had to have gotten the body out of the house fast with the kids around," said John.

"A man like that who hides money from his wife and then kills her," said Molly hotly. "He treated her like horse shit in life, so maybe he would treat her that way in death."

They all stopped talking to take this in.

"You…you don't think he…" began John.

"_Composted_ her?" finished Sherlock. "I think we need to pay Mr. Hunter a little visit," he added menacingly. And with that, he strode purposefully out of the lab.

John hesitated before following. "Molly, can you tell Lestrade about the horse tranquilizer Sherlock found? I'd like a chance to see if we can find the body before the police swarm the place, but I also want to make sure Hunter doesn't disappear on us."

Molly nodded. "I'm on it."

Sam wasn't sure what to do at this point. "Do you mind if I come with you?" she asked. "I might be able to help."

"Sure, Sam. Come on, then. Sherlock doesn't like to be kept waiting," said John as they ran after him. "I can't believe I just said that," he muttered under his breath as they raced out onto the London streets.


	8. VeriLock

At Sherlock's request they swung by Baker Street so Sherlock could pick up his laptop before they went to Hunter's house. When they arrived at the Hunter residence, Sam parked out in the street. Sherlock opened the laptop and began searching.

"What are you doing?" asked Sam.

"I am _sniffing_," said Sherlock cryptically.

"What?" said Sam, looking at John for an explanation.

"Sometimes people don't put a pass code on their Wifi connections," answered John. "If that's the case, Sherlock can access their home computers and see what web pages they have been browsing."

"With special software, of course," added Sherlock deviously.

"Looks promising," he continued. "Let's see…Network Names…2WIRE312 (How original)…HotMama51 (Doubtful)…404 NetworkUnavailable (Clever)…HunterFamily (Seriously?)…Unsecured Network." He typed furiously.

"People really are goldfish," he said to himself. He looked up to see Sam and John staring at him with appalled looks on their faces.

"Oh. Did I say that out loud?" he asked, knowing full well he had.

"Well, someone is logged in to a computer here," he continued. "Let's see what they've been up to, shall we?" He typed for awhile, and John became impatient.

"Well?" John prodded the detective for an update.

"Looks like several visits to the West London Composting site," he said with more animation. "Hunter owns horses but it seems a bit odd he should concern himself with such matters."

"Oh my God," said Sam softly, covering her mouth in horror. "You don't think he _really_…?"

"Yes, I think he _really_ did," said Sherlock, becoming animated and almost gleeful.

"Sherlock, we need the police to come _now_, before Hunter bolts or erases the evidence!" said John, imploring Sherlock to remain in the car, but he already had his hand on the door handle.

Before anyone could react, a man exited the Hunter residence. It was Karl Hunter. John quickly called Lestrade, who would send police immediately while the two consulting detectives and their VeriCorp protege followed the man for as long as they could. Sam was driving the Audi, and it soon became apparent that they couldn't easily follow a man on foot in London.

"Park here," said Sherlock tersely and he jumped out of the car before Sam had even fully stopped. John jumped out after him, and Sam followed them both after locking her car. She hoped Lestrade would take car of a parking violation if she got one.

After a few minutes, Hunter became suspicious and turned to look at the three people behind him. They tried to look like they weren't interested in him, but he started walking faster. John had gotten a text from Lestrade. The police were closing in on their location, and they had to keep Hunter from getting on a train or into a cab.

Hunter raised his hand to hail a cab, and there was one ready to pull up to the curb. Without hesitation, Sam raced forward towards Hunter.

"Excuse me, sir," she said breathlessly, putting on her best American accent. "Excuse me," she said, now smiling sweetly. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but my friends and I are lost."

"It's our first trip to London, you see," she added, looking directly into his eyes. He was clearly taken aback, but Sam had succeeded in delaying him from getting in the cab at least for a few more seconds.

"What are you looking for?" asked Hunter, clearly wanting to hurry into the cab.

Before Sam could answer, several police vehicles rounded the corner, blocking the street. Hunter knew he had been stung, and made to get away on foot. John however was a trained soldier, and did not shy away from physical confrontation. He dived at Hunter, tackling him to the ground.

"Hey!" yelled Hunter. "This is police brutality!"

"I'm not the police," said John dryly, as the real police came forward and handcuffed him.

They had enough evidence with Sherlock's discovery of horse tranquilizers in Eve Hunter's blood to take him in for questioning. After telling Lestrade about Hunter's interest in the West London Composting website, it was clear that they might have a body within the next few hours.

"I want a full report on my desk first thing in the morning," said Lestrade. "Good job, you three," he said to John, Sam and Sherlock, who had stood by while Karl Hunter was hauled away in police custody.

"It was very brave of you to detain Hunter that way," said John to Sam admiringly. "And that smile of yours really comes in handy, doesn't it Sherlock?"

The detective merely nodded and looked away. He wasn't used to having company on cases, and he didn't like it at all. He preferred to work alone, or with John Watson.

Without warning, Sherlock hailed a cab instead of getting into Sam's car again. John was unsure of what to do. "I'll see you later," Sherlock said quietly.

"Sher…Sherlock," John called after the lanky detective. But Sherlock didn't even turn to answer him. The cab pulled away with Sherlock in the back seat, his face illuminated by the light of his cell phone. John went back to Sam.

"Yeah. Sorry about that," he said, trying to cover for Sherlock's abrupt departure. "It's just his way."

Sam smiled understandingly.

"He's a true genius," she said, watching the cab depart. "It was amazing that he noticed something as small as that lapel pin and followed up on the lead. Truly amazing!" she said graciously.

"He is," agreed John emphatically.

"You work quite well together, you two and Lestrade," noted Sam.

John smiled. "I think so," he answered. Sam could tell by his facial expression that the answer was a genuine one.

"Are you still up for that dinner you promised me?" asked Sam. "It's about 7:30 and I'm starving!" she added.

John thought he realized why Sherlock had taken off by himself…to give John the opportunity to keep his date with Sam. He smiled to himself. Sherlock Holmes. Just when you thought you had him figured out, he'd go and do something unexpected.

Sherlock was doing something unexpected. A bit of research on Sam Sloan.


	9. The Finish Line

Early the next morning, Sherlock was awake before John, and sat in his favorite chair sipping tea and eating biscuits provided by Mrs. Hudson, who reminded him repeatedly that she was not his maid. He gave her the barest trace of a smile, which was all she really needed to know that he appreciated her in his own odd way.

John entered the living room in his pajamas and dressing gown, still foggy from a late night with Sam.

"They found the body," said Sherlock, slurping his tea noisily.

John's sleepy eyes flew open at this. "What?!" he asked, to make sure he had heard correctly.

"It seems that human bones don't really decay in a compost heap," said Sherlock matter-of-factly. "Fortunately, Hunter doesn't know much about basic biology," he added.

John made a disgusted face and looked at his watch. It was only 7:00AM.

"You're up bright and early," he said, surprised that Sherlock was already dressed and actually eating breakfast for a change.

"Yes, well, we need to go to Scotland Yard this morning and straighten _things_ up," he said pointedly.

"By _things_, you mean the Hunter case details?" asked John, not entirely certain what Sherlock meant.

"That. And the VeriCorp business," he said arching his eyebrow in distain.

"Ah," said John, finally catching on. Sherlock was still piqued at the Chief Superintendent's desire to bring in VeriCorp to show him up with their deception training techniques.

"Date went well," said Sherlock changing the subject. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, yeah," said John. "Sam's really great."

Sherlock regarded John out of the corner of his eye but said nothing.

"Come on Sherlock, she did well on the case. Better than the rest of them," he added.

"Mmmmmmm," said Sherlock noncommittally.

When John &amp; Sherlock arrived at NSY, they found DI Dimmock, Sally Donovan, the Chief and William Conroy from VeriCorp, all waiting for them in a large conference room. Lestrade came out from his office as soon as he saw them.

"I haven't told them yet," he said quietly. "It won't be pretty," he added. "The Chief won't like it."

"In that case, it will be glorious," said Sherlock acerbically.

Sam came in belatedly, as if she had also been waiting for them to arrive. She smiled widely at John and nodded at Sherlock, who barely registered the greeting.

They took seats and waited for the Chief to start.

"Well, ladies and gentleman. I'd like you all to share your statuses on the Hunter case. What is your take on yesterday's interview?"

William Conroy began with a lot of self confidence. "We know he's lying. There are clear markers in the interview. We think based on those markers we should pull him in for more questioning."

"That shouldn't be too hard," said Sherlock under his breath.

Conroy looked at Sam Sloan for backup, but she avoided eye contact and remained silent.

"I agree," chimed in Donovan, not wanting to pass up an opportunity to state her opinion. "I think we need to re-examine the physical evidence and get back inside the Hunter house to do a more thorough search."

DI Dimmock nodded is agreement with Sally, but didn't add anything.

The Chief nodded, then reluctantly turned to John &amp; Sherlock.

"And you lot? What did _you_ think," he added with clear distaste.

Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin, took a deep breath and launched into his statement with relish.

"We have the motive, the murder weapon and body. Karl Hunter was taken into custody last evening," he said pausing on purpose for suspense. "Once his wife found out that he was a member of the Sport Horse Breeding of Great Britain and owned several horses, Karl Hunter snapped. He killed Eve Hunter by stabbing her with a syringe filled with acepromazine, a horse tranquilizer, which he acquired from his vet, Archie Brooks, who gave a statement last night. Hunter then disposed of her body in the West London Composting site, where the un-decomposed bones were found last night. He has made a full confession." When he stopped speaking, he pressed his lips together and looked as satisfied as the proverbial cat who ate a canary.

The Chief was momentarily stunned, as was everyone else in the room.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted. "Did you know about this?" he said glowering at Lestrade.

Lestrade looked defiant. "Well, yeah," he answered.

"Wait a minute," said Donovan. "Are you telling me you solved this whole case since yesterday's interview?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," said Sherlock, clearly relishing his victory.

"Did you know about this, Sloan?" asked William Conroy, perplexed as to why she was silent.

Sam looked up and him and paused, considering her answer.

"Yes. I was with them when the case broke," she said. "These men are the most consummate detectives I have ever met," she continued. "Sherlock's powers of observation are uncanny, and he has a mastery of chemistry that is impressive."

She took a breath and continued. "John provides him constant support and his diligence and thorough practices help…fill in the blanks."

"Sam was great too, through this whole thing," chipped in John. "She really has a feel for reading people. She's brave and quick-thinking! Isn't she, Sherlock?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and shrugged begrudgingly. William Conroy's face turned a brilliant shade of pink, mirroring the Chief Inspector's. They both seemed supremely annoyed at the turn of events.

"I can't believe you went behind my back, Sloan," said Conroy hotly. "We had a job to do here."

"Which was to solve the crime," she fired back in a challenging tone. "This shouldn't be a competition. It should be a joint venture. I would say it was damed successful!" Her chin jutted out obstinately. She was not going to be subdued by the overbearing men in the room.

"It _was_ successful," finished Lestrade. "We got our man."

"_They_ got our man," fumed the Chief, gesturing towards Sherlock, John and Sam. "Our own people are useless!" he shouted in a towering rage, causing Donovan and Dimmock to cringe. They weren't actually useless. Both had fine professional records. It was just that next to Sherlock, most people did seem like goldfish.

The Chief stalked out of the room, followed by Donovan and Dimmock, who both slunk out after shooting resentful looks towards Sherlock. Conroy gathered his papers aggressively.

"You'll be lucky if you still have a job after this stunt you just pulled," he said aggressively. "Keeping your own boss in the dark…" He stalked out of the room in a huff.

"Good work, you three," said Lestrade gratefully. "We'd still be floundering if it hadn't been for you."

"I might be available, if you have any openings," joked Sam, although she was now realizing the seriousness of her situation.

"Maybe you could consult for us once in awhile," said John, feeling sorry for her situation.

"Oh goody," said Sherlock sarcastically.

She smiled tentatively as she watched him saunter gracefully out of the room, turning up his coat collar for effect, leaving them both behind without explanation.

"He really is one of a kind," she said, fascinated by this brilliant, quirky man.

"He certainly is," agreed John.

Sam's phone signaled a text message.

"Oh. Excuse me a sec," she said to John. She walked over to the side of the room to check her phone.

The text was from William Conroy. "Nice job. Do you think they bought that?"

Sam texted back. "I'm in like flint with John. Not sure about Sherlock."

Conroy answered. "Stay close to them. Get as much info on them as you can."

Sam replied, "Will do."

Out in the hallway, Sherlock hung near the doorway watching Sam and John. Sherlock _had_ studied VeriCorp's deception detection techniques enough to know that both Sam Sloan and William Conroy had put on a little show this morning. Conroy hadn't pursued any leads of his own. He had intentionally sent Sam to try to get near them. VeriCorp _wanted_ Sam to get close to himself and John or to New Scotland Yard, but he wasn't sure just why. He would allow it to play out for awhile, maybe let Sam Sloan in on future cases, just to keep her close. Until he could figure her out, anyway. But he wouldn't want John to get hurt.

John and Sam came out to the hallway, surprised that he was still standing there waiting for them.

"Hey, Sherlock," said John, clearly surprised to see him still standing there.

"What do you say we go find another interesting case to work on?" said John, smiling at Sam.

"Sounds like fun," she answered taking his arm.

Sherlock fell into step behind them.

"The game is on," he said in a low whisper close to the back of Sam's head. Sam wasn't sure if he was talking about finding a new case, or talking about _her_. How could he possibly know about her? She would have to be very careful around this one. He was, after all, England's most brilliant consulting detective.


End file.
